


forget me not.

by sailorfaerie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Maybe - Freeform, One Shot, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorfaerie/pseuds/sailorfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam could tell, as much as Dean tried to hide how much life was crumbling inside of him, but he knew it was best to leave him be and do as he said: never mention Lisa or Ben to him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget me not.

Dean hadn’t been the same since Castiel wiped Lisa’s and Ben’s memories of him and their time together after the incident. Sam could tell, as much as Dean tried to hide how much life was crumbling inside of him, but he knew it was best to leave him be and do as he said: _never mention Lisa or Ben to him again_.  He’ll get over it one way or another, Sam said, because it was part of the job description. So, you just did as you were told and avoided the subject, acting as if nothing had happened.

The weeks following the incident, Dean carried out his days as he normally would and he seemed, well, normal. Sam didn’t notice Dean’s drinking habit gradually becoming excessive because he, too, was well beyond exhausted after getting his soul back from the cage. You, on the other hand, took note of how Dean often chose researching cases over sleep and the emptiness that replaced his once shining gaze. He hardly looked you, or anyone, in the eyes anymore. You and the boys were constantly on edge and it showed, but you tried to maintain balance within the circle with an upbeat and optimistic façade that wasn’t fooling anyone.

After handling a ghost in the outskirts of New Mexico, you decided that it was best to rest before heading back to the bunker, much to the Winchesters’ dismay. The only time that Dean seemed to forget about Ben and Lisa was when hunting was keeping him busy. It was dusk when the Impala pulled off of a quiet back road and into a little town and as usual, you and the boys stayed at a cheap motel with peeling wallpaper and the smell of wet carpet lingering in the air. Much to Dean’s delight, there was a bar in walking distance of the motel and he made his way towards the bright lights and booming music as soon as he settled into the room he shared with Sam. You saw his silhouette as he walked passed your bedroom window and sighed, knowing where he was headed to.

He walked into the bar, almost smiling (something he hardly does anymore) at the familiar atmosphere. The bar was filled with people happily chatting away and indulging in copious amounts of alcohol and Dean was going to be one of them in hopes to drown out his sober thoughts. He sat at an empty barstool, starting off with a shot of whiskey and then ordered a beer to sip on. One shot turned into two and he eventually hit his ninth shot when he started to feel even a little bit of the alcohol kicking in, if anything at all. After a few more beers, he still wasn’t as drunk as he’d like to be (he could still see a fuzzy image of her face), but he was starting to loosen up and forget. Dean decided to call it a night and staggered out of the bar. He slowly made his way back to the rooms and his feet, as if they had a mind of their own, stopped in front of your door.

It was almost 2 AM and you had already showered and got ready for bed hours before while Dean ventured off to the bar and Sam probably went there for a couple of drinks too for all you knew; you were too tired to care. You were dead asleep when you somehow managed to hear loud knocks at your door and crawled groggily out of bed to answer it. You were half asleep and your eyes were barely open; you could hardly see who was standing at your door, but you recognized that faint scent of musk and a strong smell of alcohol – and of course, that voice.

“Hey,” he said, low and gruff, with a hooded gaze.

“Dean, it’s almost 2 in the morning,” you yawned, “you’re supposed to be getting some rest. That’s the whole point of us taking a break, ya know.” You didn’t mention him being under the influence because you knew he’d get riled up from your nagging; he looked extremely exhausted and you felt a little sorry for him.

“I know,” he huffed. You noticed that his eyes roamed the floor, avoiding any contact with you as if he had something to hide. “Sam has a girl in there,” he lied. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion; this was out of character for Sam, especially since he was under so much stress trying to suppress his memories from hell. “Can I crash here for the night?” He asked, palming the back of his neck.

You looked back at your single bedroom and stepped aside to let him in, “Uh, yeah, sure,” you stammered. You’ve slept with the older Winchester before on few occasions (mostly when he butted heads with his little brother), but it didn’t change how your stomach flipped and how nervous you got when you two were alone. Dean noticed and smirked as he stepped into the dimly lit room, taking his coat off and throwing it on a nearby chair.

“You should get back to bed. Sorry for waking you,” he smiled warmly. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him smile and even though it was small and almost sad, it made you grin in return. You nodded and crawled back into bed as he headed towards the bathroom to relieve himself and wash up.

Like usual, you scooted yourself near the edge of the bed and faced the wall to allow a comfortable space between you and him. When you and Dean first started sharing a room, the two of you alternated between the floor, or sometimes a small uncomfortable couch, and the bed; but somewhere along the line you and Dean became comfortable enough with each other to share a bed. Your eyes were getting heavy with sleep when Dean came out and his weight sank beside you as he kicked off his shoes. He turned off the lamp at his bedside as he crawled underneath the sheets. He kept to his respected side, rustling to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

“G’night, Dean,” you said when his body went still, but garnered no reply from him. You thought nothing of his silence until you felt his body rustle again, this time moving closer to yours, and you looked over your shoulder to see what he was up to.“Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean was on his side, propped up with his elbow, watching you with a somber emerald haze. He was silent, unsure of how to answer you. His eyes never left yours when he suddenly leaned in for a gentle kiss. You were surprised, but noticed his unsatisfied expression when he pulled away as well as something else – a glint of lust _._ He draped his arm over your form and leaned in again, this time hungrier, going from your lips to your jaw-line to your neck.

There was no doubt in your mind that you had feelings for Dean and under any other circumstance, this would have been a dream, but you knew from the start it was going to be unrequited. You knew that this wasn’t right and it was just an attempt to numb the hurt and loneliness he felt; the heartbreak of leaving Lisa and Ben behind and pulling them into his mess of a life.

“W-wait, Dean!” You stammered at his sudden attack; his hands roamed your body, rough to the touch. “Stop it, you’re drunk,” you attempted to push his weight off, but to no avail. His body was stiff, almost as if he was fighting effortlessly against you, and you didn’t have a chance against him. “Dean, please!” You pleaded, choking back a sob. Suddenly, his hands stopped and his lips lingered at your neck, his hot breath tickling at your flesh.

“Sorry,” he said under his breath and in sudden realization of what he had almost done, buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked apologetically.

You noticed his form beginning to shake and you affectionately placed a hand on his stubble covered cheek, “Hey, hey,” you whispered soothingly, though you were still shaken up yourself, “It’s okay. You’re exhausted Dean, you need some rest.” You slipped an arm under his neck and cradled his head gently. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” you reassured him that you forgave him as you ran your fingers through his messy locks. He was silent again and you wondered if he had already fallen asleep, but soon he slowly pulled himself away from you.

“Is it alright if we stay like this? Just for a little bit,” he murmured and you nodded in reply. Dean heaved a sigh, pulling you closer so his face was comfortably nuzzled against your chest as if he was trying to hide from your gaze. He was like a vulnerable child, seeking safety and someone to hold his broken pieces together, and for once, Dean Winchester was the one who needed saving.

Naturally, he was too proud to admit it and he rejected anyone’s help. He would just say ‘ _I’m fine, alright?’_ and it would be over and done with, never to be spoken about again. You never dared to, anyway, fearful of him lashing out. You were certain that in the morning Dean would pretend like nothing ever happened and go he’d go about his life normally – just like always – and the only thing you could do was play along.

Minutes that felt like hours passed and you began to feel Dean’s body starting to relax. His breathing became steady, your fingers in his hair were becoming therapeutic and eventually it lulled him to sleep. You placed a kiss on the top of his head when you were sure he was finally asleep and whispered _goodnight_ before sleep visited you, too.

The next morning, you were greeted by an empty bedside. Your eyes roamed the bare motel room for the older Winchester, but there was no trace that he was ever there.


End file.
